


Broken Things Are the Most Beautiful

by Elzzif99



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love/Hate, Not Canon Compliant, Seduction, Sexual Content, Treachery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27021025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elzzif99/pseuds/Elzzif99
Summary: Gabriel Lorca had made a fool of her.She felt dirty. Tainted. She longed to scour herself clean, inside and out. Purge her mind of the scent of his skin, the feel of his silky hair and firm muscles under her questing fingers, the taste of his lips and tongue...
Relationships: Michael Burnham/Gabriel Lorca | Mirror Gabriel Lorca
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Broken Things Are the Most Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic. I know this ship isn't as celebrated as others, mainly due to the writers killing it off. Anyway, Michael/Gabriel is my jam, so here goes.

Michael Burnham is positive she has never experienced hatred before.

Not after the bombing at the Learning Center. Not in the aftermath of the Binary Stars and Captain Georgiou’s death. Not even when her parents were taken from her by the Klingons’ savagery on Doctari Alpha.

She has never known hate before, but she thinks she does now.

Gabriel Lorca had made a fool of her.

He’d manipulated everyone, but her most of all, committing what she thought of as one of the most unforgivable crimes. He’d toyed with her feelings so expertly that she had actually believed his lies. And now he has the audacity and callousness to think she’ll join him for his murderous ascension to the Terran throne.

She’d thought that Ash’s betrayal had wounded her irreparably. She was completely unprepared for Gabriel’s devastation.

It had been her captain who held her together after the Voq-Tyler hybrid almost succeeded in killing her. She could still hear his deep, accented voice thrumming softly in her ear with reassuring words. They had been a balm for her battered heart. His tender, almost worshipful touches had provided solace for her body and soul, after all the horrific dealings in the mirror universe. He had been her last link to remind her, that regardless of their environment, she was still Starfleet.

He’d made her feel safe. That she wasn’t alone.

Lies.

He’d used her. She’d been the perfect bait to draw out the Emperor and gain access to the flagship. She felt insignificant. Exposed. Defenseless. Like a worm dangling helplessly from a hook.

She couldn’t breathe properly. Her skin was suddenly several sizes too tight, crunching her organs together, giving her lungs no room to expand.

She felt dirty. Tainted. She longed to scour herself clean, inside and out. Purge her mind of the scent of his skin, the feel of his silky hair and firm muscles under her questing fingers, the taste of his lips and tongue, the echo of his moans as he moved inside her…

He didn’t want _her_ , but the _other_ Michael. The dead woman he currently was waging a war for, in order to overthrow Philippa. The woman he needed her to stand in for.

A piercing cry erupts from her depths and she drops to her knees, the bitter anguish spewing from her like acid, leaving her raw, heaving and empty. Tears slide down in rivulets along her cheeks and she slumps against the wall. Pulling her knees into herself, she rests her head on them, trying to stabilize her breathing through quiet sobs.

She needs to move. He’d told his men not to harm her, but she can’t afford to be apprehended.

After making contact with Saru and the others, they brought her up to speed on the plan to get home, as well as the threat of the orb of mycelial energy that powered the _Charon_. She hadn’t told them of the captain’s treachery.

She’d be lying to herself if she claimed to not know why.

An irrationally human part of her needs to see him again. Needs him to prove that he actually does see and want _her_ , not a replacement for mirror Michael. Prove that he isn’t such a cruel, unfeeling bastard. That he can redeem himself.

The inclination to attempt to convince him to drop everything and return to her universe is ludicrous, but absurdly persistent. After all, he has displayed a propensity for good in the prime universe, despite being raised in this barbaric one.

Someone capable of such passion and tenderness couldn’t be all bad, could they? With the constructive influences of herself and the rest of _Discovery’s_ crew surrounding him, he was as good as any other Starfleet personnel, even if he took a few moral liberties due to the war.

Or was that all a part of his deception, too? Had he really been more concerned about keeping the Klingons from the dilithium reserves on Corvan II, rather than saving the innocent souls caught in the crossfire? Had he rescued Ash from that Klingon prison only because he saw a potential ally? One who would ensure his own survival and feel indebted to him?

A shuddering exhale leaves her and she closes her eyes as another wave of memories crashes against her consciousness.

The adoration in his tone when he whispers _my Michael_ against her lips, raptly watching her come apart under his fingers. His striking blue eyes, searing her with their intensity and holding her gaze as she rides him to her next climax. The heat of his seed coating her womb when he comes, those three dangerously hurtful words falling from his lips and into her ear, as he clutches at her like she is his lifeline.

As if she is the focal point of his universe. At the time, she thought she was.

In those moments, she belonged to him and he to her.

She doesn’t know how long she sits there, mentally locking her recollections away while gathering the jagged pieces of herself, fitting them together bit by bit. When she finally rises, she does so carefully, pushing away from the wall until she’s steady on her feet.

Swiping at her tear tracks, she sets off down the hall to where she suspects Philippa is hiding.

She has never hated anyone.

But with a single deceptively simple phrase, Gabriel Lorca has her hating the one person she shouldn’t – herself.


End file.
